24: Day 10: A New Era
by Illyriarocks
Summary: Set two years after Live Another Day, Jack is the Special Agent in Charge of CTU NY and Ethan Kanin is President. While negotiating a hostage crisis instigated by a former Secret Service agent, Jack is thrust back into the world of espionage when a secret about Kim's husband comes to light. With the aid of Kate Morgan and Aaron Pierce, Jack must dismantle a new threat
1. 12:00 am-1:00 am

"24"

"Day 10: 12:00 am-1:00 am"

"_**The following takes place between midnight and 1:00 am"**_

A graying man walked through the halls of CTU New York. This man held a certain dignity about him, a world-weary edge that made most men back down when face-to-face with him. Jack Bauer. Federal agent, wanted fugitive, and one-time Presidential operative. Most days, his colleagues avoided him, but found that, with him being the new Special Agent in Charge, they could not do so for very long.

Upon arriving at his room, overlooking the various cubicles at which several dozen of analysts were stationed, Jack sat and mused. Among his prevalent thoughts, a single question cried to be answered: _why did he really take this job? _After the drone attacks in London masterminded by Margot al-Harazi and the ensuing chaos surrounding the override device used to control the drones, Heller stepped down as President and Ethan Kanin was sworn into the office. Although Ethan was never subtle about his dislike of Jack in the past, the new Commander-in-Chief had set aside his ideological differences with the maverick agent due to his foiling of the plot and prevention of a war between China and the United States. Ethan then offered Jack a job as the head of CTU New York, working in a more backseat capacity while Kate Morgan, Jack's primary aid during the attacks, handled the field work. "I guess I did it as a courtesy to Audrey and her father," Jack murmured. These were the first words he'd spoken all evening. At the present moment, and many times before it, Jack considered retiring from government work completely to have a quiet life with his daughter Kim and his grandchildren. Kim was heavily pregnant with her and Stephen's third child, another girl. The baby sister that little Teri had been desperate for. Jack smiled at the thought of his granddaughter helping her mother "be a new mommy again," as she had put it when Jack had visited at Christmas. That kid had her namesake's fire in her heart, and was a friend to everyone she met. _Can't let my mind wander_, Jack thought. _We've got a problem at the Cairo apartment building that Kate needs to brief me on._

And speak of the devil, or think of her in this case, Kate stormed into his office. Jack was taken aback by her haste.

"What the hell, Jack," she screamed at him.

"Care to elaborate" he asked calmly.

"Why haven't we sent in a team to the Cairo? Marcus Wright has been waiting for five hours for us to do something. If we don't make a move, he is going to start killing hostages."

"If we do make a move, Wright will still kill those hostages. He's playing a game, Kate, a very sick game."

"He has a feed broadcasting _directly_ into the Oval Office, Jack! He's speaking directly to Ethan Kanin. What is he waiting for? An invitation?"

Jack could tell Kate was exhausted from monitoring the situation all night despite his orders to go home and rest, assuring her that the crisis was under control. He simply smiled and waved her away. After a few tense moments, Kate left. Jack wished that he could let her in on what was really going on, but he couldn't tell anyone. It was too fragile for him to share. Ever since taking the job, Jack had tried to model himself after Bill Buchanan, but he often found that his late friend was much more level-headed than he was or could ever hope to be. Jack often blew up at employees for no good reason, and was obsessed with efficiency. One such day had ended with him in the hospital and discovering he had a heart condition exacerbated by all the stress he'd been under. Truth be told, he wasn't terribly surprised. Even with the medication, he had still been told to take it easy. From then on, Jack was actually grateful for being out of the field. He was about to call for Kate to come back in when Sarah Gavin ascended the stairs, sheepishly waiting at the door. The senior agent beckoned her inside. Jack remembered Sarah from her time at CTU LA during the nuclear reactor crisis and had brought her back on due to Sarah's similar obsession with efficiency. Jack had been told that Michelle let her go due to Sarah's tendency toward being unfocused during terror threats, but her behavior during today's hostage crisis told him differently. "What is it, Sarah," he asked.

"Well, sir, um… I, I just wanted to let you know that Kayla Hassan's plane is going to be landing in less than an hour. It's about the treaty, sir."

"The treaty? The peace treaty that cost her father his life? What of it," Jack fumed.

"Well, Kayla is in the States because Ethan Kanin wants to reignite peace talks with Kamistan, and eventually sign a new treaty. I promise, the Russians are not involved this time." Sarah's attempt at humor was lost on Jack, and her smile quickly faded.

"Is there anything else, Sarah?"

"No, sir."

"Bring Agent Morgan back to this office, please."

Sarah nodded and hurried out to fetch Kate. Within moments, Kate was back and none too pleased.

"I cannot be summoned like some dog, Jack. What do you want? I need to be monitoring the Wright situation. Pitch Black has proven themselves a significant threat, and we need to take them seriously."

"They're run-of-the-mill anti-government folks, Kate. They'll fizzle out sooner or later."

This was a lie. Jack knew how big a threat Marcus Wright and the organization he headed were, as they were serious about eliminating the two-party system of government that made America what it was. But, again, Jack had a very delicate plan for dealing with them. Kate was visibly distressed at his flippancy.

"Well, will you at least listen to what else I found," she seethed. "Dalia Hassan is dead."

This grabbed Jack's attention. Dalia had been elected Kamistan's president following Omar's murder, and for her to be dead did not bode well for the already unstable country.

"What happened," was all he could muster and even that was a barely audible whisper.

"Car bomb. Last night," Kate stated matter-of-factly.

"Assign a protection detail to both her and Kanin…" Jack sighed, at a loss for words. When it became obvious that this was the end of the discussion, Kate gave him a sarcastic smile, turned, and headed back out. Jack slumped in his chair.

_12:07:04… 12:07:05… 12:07:06… 12:07:07…_

Armed men had sealed off the Cairo apartment building, more commonly known as simply The Cairo, and over three dozen hostages were crowded into the lobby. This had been widely reported for the past several hours, and no one could get inside to stop it even if they wanted to. Marcus Wright was far too savvy to fall victim to the usual "terrorists-protected-with-only-guns" trap. His men wore bulletproof vests and body armor on their arms and legs. Many people could tell you many things about Marcus Wright. Chiefly, everyone recalled that he used to be a Secret Service agent. Others knew him as a relatively quiet family man whose wife, children, and siblings had been killed in Valencia during the suitcase nuke debacle. Others still saw him as a good friend and coworker who was good with people and would often listen to his friends' problems. Nowadays, though, most knew him as the head of Pitch Black, an elusive terrorist group with ties to the Russians and various Mexican drug cartels, and Wright himself had dealt with the Salazars until shortly before that business with the virus. Until a few years ago, Pitch Black itself was more of an online presence, a Facebook page here and a Youtube ad there. They advocated a "revising of the government," mainly, an end to the bipartisanship of the country. They felt neither Republicans nor Democrats had gotten them anywhere in the past several decades, and used the third section of George Washington's farewell address to drive this point home. The credence of such a gimmick had yet to be fully determined, but it worked for the organization's members, and that was enough for Wright. Presently, the man himself was strolling among his human bargaining chips, and stopped when he recognized one. Wright squatted in front of the balding, redheaded man, and smirked.

"Well, well," Wright said, grabbing the man's jaw.

A defiant Aaron Pierce stared back at Wright. "Hello, Marcus," he spat.

"Thought you retired, old pal, what's with the suit?"

"I did retire, Marcus. I'm on a business trip."

"Mind telling me what that is?"

Aaron leaned in close to Wright, and whispered:

"I'd rather swallow a live grenade. You don't have to do this, Marcus. When I knew you, you were a good man. Now you're a delusional psychopath who thinks he can outsmart and intimidate the President of the United States? This is not you, I know you! Marcus, you are better than this. I am begging you, do not proceed with this insane endeavor."

Wright threw Aaron to the ground, yelling obscenities at the man for a moment, and then something truly odd happened. He became completely calm and jovial again, just as he was moments before he saw Aaron, as if he never saw his old friend at all. Then he noticed the hostages' confused gaze:

"What the hell are you idiots staring at?!"

He kicked Aaron in the face and walked away.

"Well, that could've gone better…"

_12:10:32… 12:10:33… 12:10:34… 12:10:35…_

_12:11:51… 12:11:52… 12:11:53… 12:11:54…_

Back at CTU, a Chinese fellow had been shown into Jack's office. He wore a typical business suit, except that he forewent a tie. He had a gun holster clearly visible at his side, his hand hovering above it. Jack simply stared at him. The man stared back, steely and cold. This was not what Jack wanted when he woke up this morning, but he went with it.

"Morning, Huan. I trust I need no introduction."

"No, Mr. Bauer. I trust I need none either."

"The son of Cheng Zhi needs no introduction, not where I'm concerned. You were just a kid when your father tortured me for over a year, Huan. Were most men in my position, they would be loath to work with a man like you. A contract killer for the mob. A known vigilante. Thankfully, I am aware that you do this on my order, that your mob ties are a cover. I am also aware that you are an American citizen, given that your father abandoned you at birth and a perfectly normal, old-fashioned American family adopted you. Lastly, I am aware that you are very close with Agent Morgan."

"That is correct, sir. Agent Morgan and I were at The Farm together. She is godmother to my son."

"That's very nice, Huan. I need you to follow her, and closely, yet covertly. She has it in her head that I am not doing enough on the Marcus Wright situation. Would you agree with her assessment?"

"May I speak freely, sir," Huan questioned.

"You may."

"I agree. But her safety is more important in this particular scenario. I'll track her all night and into the morning if need be, until the hostage crisis is resolved."

"Good man."

The men shook hands, and Huan departed.

Garrett Benson was not one of those men who girls would take for the committal type. Yes, he was ruggedly handsome, and had eyes that put oceans to shame on their clearest days, but he had the air of a player, and he relished in that reputation. He was always safe, but no woman ever had his heart. He closed himself off from attachment and emotion of any kind. People joked that he was a sociopath, he was no stoic and detached. Then he met Kate Morgan, who at that precise moment was kicking open the door to his apartment. Half-asleep, he stumbled into the living room in nothing but a robe.

"Come on, baby, I ain't got nuthin' you haven't seen before," he drunkenly slurred. "Come back to bed. I missed you this past week. That boss of yours has got you working the graveyard shirt. Freaking office jerks…"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Of course. Garrett, I came because we may not be seeing each other after tonight. There's some things I need to take care of, and-"

Garrett didn't let her finish, though. He grabbed her by the throat and tossed her to the ground, straddling her, but Kate remained calm.

"Garrett, come on. Don't be that guy."

"You are not breaking up with me, you are _not_!"

"We're just not working out, Garrett. Please let me up."

Here, Garrett sighed and stood, helping her up. He sniffled, and moaned, mournfully.

"It's only been three weeks, damn it."

"I'm sorry."

Garrett sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around Kate's midsection, his classic "forgive me for whatever I did" move. He was too stoned or drunk half the time to remember their arguments anyway, so Kate knew he'd probably forget about tonight in a few hours. The woman lowered herself to his level and cupped his tear-stained face in her hands. "We can still be friends. Come here, you."

She held him in her arms for a moment, then stuck him in the ribs with her stun gun. Garrett went limp after a few short spasms, and Kate laid his body out on the carpet, patting him down. In his left pocket, she found a piece of paper, crumpled up lazily. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that scribbled upon it, somehow legibly, was a phone number with an area code she did not recognize. She pulled out her phone and called Jack.

"Jack, it's Kate. I found a number in Garrett's pocket. Just like I suspected, he's working for someone."

"Call the number, keep me on the line," came his gravelly voice.

And she did. A Russian accent greeted her, and this she did recognize. Jack recognized it as well. They both said his name simultaneously.

"Yuri Suvarov."

While Kate was on her way back to CTU, Jack was back to brooding. Suvarov was imprisoned in Russia, which would explain the unknown area code, but how would he be able to contact someone from the States? If he was out, Ethan Kanin would probably have been informed of it. Since the failed signing, the Russians had been apprised of their leader's numerous crimes against the Islamic Republic of Kamistan. What would Suvarov have to gain by becoming embroiled in any more of that nation's events? Just then came the familiar ring of the phone. It was Kanin.

"Mr. President?"

"Jack, I'm all right. I trust you've been made aware of Kayla Hassan's impending arrival tonight?"

"Yes, sir, although with all due respect, I do not see a purpose to reigniting talks with Kamistan."

"Let me handle all of the diplomacy, Jack. You just make sure that thing with Marcus Wright is taken care of, and don't worry about any security measures when Kayla arrives. Everything will be in a flank two position. She will be fine. Just take care of Wright and get those hostages to safety."

Before Jack could respond, the line went dead.

"The President has been compromised," he said to himself.

To add more pressure to the Bauer patriarch's morning, Kim, Stephen, Teri, and baby Tom were in town. Kim couldn't sleep, a combination of Braxton Hicks contractions and needing the bathroom so often, so she sat up in bed reading a book. Despite being due in less than two weeks, Kim's primary concern was finishing the book Stephen gave her for her birthday on cooking. Stephen had been going back and forth to get things from the kitchen that she requested. Water. Sugar. Spicy food. Kim loved him for it, even if his recent distance due to his job at the firm meant she saw him less and less these days. She lived for these nights, where the two of them seemed like the only ones awake in the whole world. And when they kissed, it made this fire throughout her body spring to life, and it stayed long after the kiss ended. They'd been married for almost nine years now, had an eight-and-a-half year old and a two-year-old, and were expecting baby #3 on top of that, and people still joked they were in the honeymoon phase, but neither minded. They always say it as a testament to their love. Kim always wanted at least five kids, because her mom was one of five, but this pregnancy had been particularly taxing on her. She'd been in-and-out of the hospital for most of the last few weeks, and while her husband insisted on delivering the baby in a sterile environment where doctors were present around the clock, Kim remained obstinate on having a water birth at home. Lost in thought, she barely noticed when Stephen nudged her.

"Babe, Teri's awake. She's hungry."

"Stephen, it's after midnight. She'll be up all night."

"Kim, she'll be up all night regardless. She's worried about her mama and on standby when we tell her the baby's coming," he playfully whined, making those puppy dog eyes Kim couldn't resist. She rolled her eyes at him. The man leaped up and led Teri into the kitchen as Kim returned to her book.

And then…

CRASH! A window shattered. Kim sat up, tense.

BANG! BANG! Gunshots.

Teri shrieked.

Kim got up and rushed as fast as her belly would allow into the kitchen. Stephen lay on the floor, two bullets in him. One in the chest. One in the forehead. Blood pooled around him, and Teri was in the middle of that pool, staring blankly. At the other end of the island stood a woman, identifiable by her waif-like figure even in the darkness of the room. Stephen had not yet had time to switch on the light, and now he wouldn't ever again. The assassin seemed to waver when she saw Kim, her eyes fixated on the woman's baby bump. Her distraction gave Kim enough time to throw the bowl containing the leftovers from last night's pasta at the murderess, and she dove out the window, cutting herself on pieces of glass as she did so. Kim scooped her daughter into her arms and dialed 911 with her free hand.

_12:21:42… 12:21:43… 12:21:44… 12:21:45…_

_12:25:17… 12:25:18… 12:25:19… 12:25:20…_

Kate returned to CTU, visibly shaken. Sure, Garrett Benson was nothing but a cover to get intel on Marcus Wright, but she'd never anticipated his being in contact with an international criminal like Yuri Suvarov. She watches as agents hauled his drunk, jerk ass to one of the interrogation rooms and headed to Jack's office. What she saw surprised her: Jack Bauer crying, or at least on the verge of tears.

"Oh my God, it does feel," she joked, and then realized the comment was insensitive. "Sorry." Kate had worked closely with Renee Walker during her operation with Red Square, and Renee had once referred to Kate as her best friend after she was released from the Bureau. She blinked back tears of her own and placed her ex's phone on Jack's desk, giving him a reassuring smile and departing. On her way down the stairs, she heard a ruckus and glanced back. The contents of Jack's desk were strewn haphazardly across his room and Jack held his head in his hands. Upon hitting the floor, a man informed her that Benson was awake and she walked to the window looking into the room in which he was placed. He was pleasantly chatting up the interrogator, no torture required.

"That's suspicious. He never spoke that much to me the entire time I was undercover."

Being a terrorist's hostage was not on the agenda that Tim Woods, former president Allison Taylor's secretary of homeland security, had planned for his day. Then again, neither was ever being associated with Jack Bauer or any of his friends again in any way, shape, or form, so he was 0 for 2. Wright had released Aaron Pierce a short while ago, after that strange and unprovoked outburst. Interesting behavior for a terrorist. When questioned by his underling Trent Murkowski, Wright had been cryptic, saying Aaron was en route to pick someone up. Woods had crawled forward to acquire better intelligence on the matter, when another of Wright's seemingly random breakdowns distracted Murkowski. This time, it was over one of the hostages slipping away and getting shot for his effort. Woods couldn't believe that nothing was being done by local law enforcement. The negotiator was right outside, that much was clear, but they made no attempt at contact. It probably helped that there was a video feed of Kanin pointed toward the hostages and away from Wright and his men, so that the cops had no idea what they were up against. So how did CTU? Woods brushed the thought from his mind and scuttled over to a terrified woman. She had toned muscles and wore her long black hair in a singular braid down her back, and wore a business suit. Woods assumed she was a concierge.

"What's your name," Woods asked.

"Charlie. Charlotte Kanin," the girl responded.

Ethan's daughter from his first marriage. Now it all made sense. Wright had spent the last hour searching for someone, screaming obscenities at the hostages unlucky enough not to be his desired target. Pitch Black had been trying to find Charlie for the past month in an effort to coerce Ethan to step down, and she had remained well-hidden. The terrorists didn't even know what she looked like, as the last time she was pictured with her father was her middle school graduation. How ironic that she was right under their noses. Luckily, Charlie had forgotten her name tag that morning. All the hostages were scared out of their wits, and the erratic, frightening behavior of their captor was not helping matters. "At least no one here is pregnant," Woods joked to himself. _That_ would've been bad. He and Charlie glanced over to Wright, who had calmed down and switched on the camera.

"Mr. President. Ethan," Wright began. "Myself, a dozen armed men, and roughly thirty-three hostages have been sitting here since around eight p.m. and we. Are. BORED! I'll give you until 4:45 this morning, and everyone here will be dead. Everyone. If you wish to avert this, simply sign your letter of resignation and ensure that your vice president is not sworn in, by any means necessary, but preferably murder."

Then he saw Tim and Charlie. He motioned to Murkowski, who jostled Tim to his feet and made him kneel in front of the camera.

"Ooh-ho-ho," Wright chuckled. "Look who we have here, Mr. President- your old friend, Tim Woods. He'll be the first to die, and I'm executing hostages every half-an-hour that you do not comply beginning at one. So while you have roughly four hours to mull this over, you do have some incentive to expedite your decision. Chop-chop."

Tim looked at Charlie out of the corner of his eye, and gulped before Wright switched off the feed.

_12:34:27… 12:34:28… 12:34:29… 12:34:30…_

_12:36:49… 12:36:50… 12:36:51… 12:36:52…_

They had just removed her husband's body from the crime scene, and Kim was a wreck. Teri had been lead away to be cleaned up and questioned. She knew she had to be strong for her children, but she couldn't, not when her dad was off doing who knows what for the greater good and all her friends were going to be offering more pity than consolation. Seeing Stephen like that reminded her of her mother's death when she was sixteen. As Kim sank against the wall, a familiar face appeared: Tricia Masters, the nanny. Tricia looked like she just rolled out of bed, and that assessment was most likely accurate, but Kim was glad in that moment. The petite brunette scooped Kim into her arms, holding the pregnant women tight to her as Kim sobbed into Tricia's shirt. This continued until Kim had no more tears and her face was swollen from crying. Tricia cupped Kim's face in her hands, kissing her friend's forehead.

"Can- can you… can you take Teri? I think they're done with her," Kim finally choked out.

"Sure, honey," Tricia smiled, and hugged Kim again.

As if on cue, Teri was lead back inside, only to be scooped into Tricia's arms, allowed to hug her mom one last time, and carried far away from the apartment. Tricia did her best to hide Teri's eyes from the carnage. A few moments later, Tricia returned and carried Tom away in his sling (Kim was a big believer in baby wearing), but not before giving Kim a loving peck on the cheek. And then Kim felt a dampness on her pajama bottoms and looked down. No, she hadn't peed, and she knew it.

"Perfect," Kim muttered sarcastically under her breath.

_12:39:00… 12:39:01… 12:39:02… 12:39:03…_

Kayla Hassan stepped into the terminal and was greeted by several armed Secret Service Agents.

"Let's go, boys," Kayla quipped. "I have five suitcases full of luggage waiting for me at baggage claim."

"You brought all that for a one-week stay, ma'am," one of the agents inquired.

"No, I am moving here," Kayla clarified. "My brother is the new President of the Islamic Republic of Kamistan."

No one voiced the opinion, but every agent knew that this would throw a wrench in Ethan's plans.

"I'm tired, let's try to make this efficient," Kayla snapped, trying not to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Murkowski was napping in one of the lounge chairs. This was a perfect time, Charlie knew, to attempt a rescue for Tim, who was guarded by Wright himself. Charlie crawled on her stomach, concealed she hoped by the sleeping forms of the other hostages. No one was paying that close attention to them anyway, so what if one of them was moving? But just as she was about to snatch the handgun from the terrorist's holster, Murkowski stirred and grabbed her wrist. The man glared at her, murder in his eyes, and shoved Charlie to the ground. Murkowski kicked her several times until he was satisfied that Charlie was winded and sobbing loudly, and then the beating stopped. Someone was whaling on Murkowski now! Bleary, Charlie looked up at a hand that was offered to her. Tim? No such luck. As Charlie stood, she saw that her rescuer was Marcus Wright, and she shrank back, retreating to the wall where Tim first found her and huddled there just staring back as Wright, whose own maniacal eyes seemed to bore a whole into Charlie's very being.

"You're welcome, Miss Kanin," Wright laughed.

Damn it, he did know who she was. _What kind of sick game is this bastard playing, _Charlie thought.

Marcus never took his eyes off her.

_12:40:09… 12:40:10… 12:40:11… 12:40:12…_

_12:43:17… 12:43:18… 12:43:19… 12:43:20…_

Jack picked up his cell phone. Odd, no one usually called his personal number anymore, except… Kim!

"Kim, baby! Hey," he almost shouted.

He was met with deep sobs and sniffling. "Hey, dad," Kim managed.

Jack was perplexed. This was not the joyous news he was expecting, not that he could've dropped everything the minute he knew his granddaughter was coming anyway. He was shocked by Kim's disposition.

"Baby, what is wrong?"

"Stephen is dead," Kim blurted.

_Good lord_, Jack internally screamed. "What? How?"

"Some woman came in and shot him while he was getting Teri a midnight snack! She must've been a cat burglar or something and got spooked. I need you, daddy," and her voice trailed off into sobs.

"Honey… I'm sorry, I am so sorry. I will get there as soon as I can, I promise. Where are the kids? With the nanny?"

"They are now, Tricia took them a little under ten minutes ago. But I do have some good news: my water broke! My little girl is coming," she managed a small laugh at that.

_If only it were under better circumstances, _Jack reflected.

"Did the woman look familiar?"

"Somewhat. She was medium height and pale, dark brown hair."

"Why would someone want to kill Stephen, Kim? He's a good guy! And why today of all days, when Kayla Hassan is coming to the States?"

"Um… do you remember how I told you that Stephen doesn't like to talk about his parents? Well, Ethan Kanin had a son with his second wife, a marriage which has since ended," Kim recalled.

"Stephen is the President's son," Jack exclaimed.

"They were very much estranged, as Kanin is with his daughter Charlie. Last I heard, she was working at the Cairo."

"The Cairo? In Washington?"

"Yeah, dad, why," Kim asked.

"I think I know why Marcus Wright has been so lax," Jack stated. "Kim, I need you to stay home, okay? I love you, and I'll see you soon." With that Jack hung up, but could find no relief. Someone else called him.

"What," he snapped.

"Relax, cowboy, it's me," came the voice of Tricia Masters.

"Oh, it's you," Jack deadpanned. "Kim told me you have the kids."

"Yes, sir, I do. You know, if you had let me tell her, Kim would know I'm CTU by now."

"I can't let her back into this world, the world that took her mother and now the father of her children from her."

"Reality check, dude, you already did that. Now, I'm gonna take the kids somewhere safe, and then I am going to help Kate with this hostage crisis. Kim will be fine."

"Tricia, Kim is in labor. I need you to get back to her ASAP."

"Jack, she will be fine! Labor takes a while, and she's having the kid at home, so what's the big deal… oh. Yeah, I'll get back to her once I drop the kids off. They have relatives in Manhattan, far away from all this. All right, bye." And the line went dead.

Jack was still pretty new to iPhones, but he knew how to text. He pulled up "Kate Morgan" and sent her, "Get back in contact with Suvarov NOW."

"Okay," was Kate's simple reply.

Kate waited one the line until Suvarov picked up. She had memorized his voice during his trial.

"Privet, Agent Morgan," came his repugnant accent.

"Yuri Suvarov," Kate growled.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking to one such as you, Kate- may I call you Kate?"

"You're an ass, _Yuri_, but at least you're polite. I need information on the hostage crisis. I believe you may have been the one to hire Pitch Black as you and I both know that Kayla Hassan is in America today to sign a new peace treaty between the U.S. and Kamistan. Russia won't like that, so why did you hire a psychopath like Marcus Wright to do your dirty work for you?"

Suvarov chortled on the line. "You are straightforward, Kate, I will give you that. Very Jack Bauer of you. I am told he is the Special Agent in Charge, stationed at the New York office of CTU. Is that correct?"

"Suvarov-"

"Is. That. Correct? I will not give you answer until I have my own."

"Yes. Yes, he is. My turn for answers."

"You are up to speed on his deeds six years ago, yes? You know that Bauer tried to kill me?"  
"Yes, and you deserved it, you sick f-"

"Language, Agent Morgan, I am disdainful of it. Such hostility from one so pretty. You can understand that I am loath to cooperate with my attempted murderer."

"You see the guard standing at your cell? He is Russian CTU. The foreign office was installed after your actions during the treaty signing. His phone, which he gave you, has a tracer. Your sorry ass is rotting in a Russian prison and there is nothing you can do about it. As are most of the other guards on your floor. Escape and you'll be in our hands. Something tells me you don't want that."

"You are bluffing," he sounded unsure.

"About the guard standing two feet from you, no. But about the others… want to test that theory?"

Suvarov remained quiet.

"I thought not. Now talk."

"I will not share any pertinent information until I can speak with Jack Bauer personally, but I will tell you this. Your intuition about your boyfriend working for someone was correct, he is indeed working for me but he does not know why. He believes I was wrongly accused of the crimes that got me here to this place. Also, Jack's daughter is now a widow. I am the one who ordered the hit on the man."

Kate detected a hint of glee in that final statement and angrily hung up on Suvarov. In the front seat sat Huan, disguised as a driver. He picked up his cell and called someone.

"This is Brooke Cheng, please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can."

Huan smiled. He loved listening to his wife's voicemail. It was the first time he ever heard her voice. They'd been set up on a blind date during high school and he had taken the initiative to call her after. She was painfully shy during the dinner.

"Hey, my love, it's me. I know it's like five till one in the morning, but I needed to tell you that I am not going to be home for a while. Job is keeping me tied up. I'll call you in a few hours, okay? I love you. Bye."

_12:57:21… 12:57:22… 12:57:23… 12:57:24…_

Aaron Pierce's black van- rather, the one he'd been supplied with by megalomaniacal terrorists- pulled up the gates of Virginia Correctional Center for Women. He'd driven like a bat out of hell to get there, avoiding three speed traps on the way, and now he waited. He had no idea who he was picking up, but he wasn't comfortable with doing the thought of doing this again. Just as he was about to drive off, a short-haired brunette in a nice suit waltzed over to the car. Aaron couldn't believe his eyes. Olivia Taylor. The man temporarily froze while Olivia wrapped on the passenger window with her first. After a bit, Aaron unlocked the door and she hopped in, fastening her seatbelt like an excited child. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, beaming.

"I just knew that you'd save me one day, Aaron!"

"I shudder to think of what your fantasies entailed," Aaron griped. "You're the second convicted felon I've sprung in as many days, and the other one is gonna help us with the Wright issue. Behave, girl."

"Anything for you, my hero," Olivia teased.

Aaron rolled his eyes and turned away from the center.

The woman who killed Stephen Kanin hopped into a black Kia and removed her ski mask. Although Kim didn't know who she was, Jack surely did. This woman was responsible for downing a plane over the Mojave desert and a failed biological assault on David Palmer many years ago. No one really knew what her name was, but most folks called her Mandy. As the car began to move, she dialed her employer.

"You didn't tell me the Bauer girl was about to pop another kid out, you jackass," she yelled when the man picked up.

"You did not need to know, Mandy. Do Morgan and Bauer believe it is Suvarov who ordered the hit?"

"Yes, as planned. When am I paid?"

"When Jack Bauer is also dead," the voice specified.

"What do you want with Bauer," the assassin queried.

"The man I am working for has a long history with him, let us leave it at that."

Before Mandy could interrogate him further, her boss hung up. She clicked her tongue.

"Can we get some damn tunes back here," she screeched at the driver.

Marcus Wright pocketed his phone, satisfied Mandy had fulfilled her end, and glanced over to Tim Woods. Murkowski shoved him over to Wright, who aimed a gun at his head after switching on the feed. Wright reveled in seeing Ethan Kanin's helpless face.

_12:59:57… 12:59:58… 12:59:59… 1:00:00_


	2. 1:00 am-2:00 am

"24"

"Day 10: 1:00 am-2:00 am"

"_**The following takes place between 1:00 am and 2:00 am."**_

Wright took in the President's horrified face on the camera feed, but as he about to pull the trigger on Woods, he fired several shots indiscriminately into the newly-awaked crowd. Screams filled the lobby.

"Did you really think," Wright asked the President, "that I would make it that easy?"

Ethan pondered his answer, remaining silent.

"_Well?!"_

"No, Marcus. I did not," Ethan said somberly. "I'm still not sure what your endgame is, Marcus. You've made no demands, so why don't we just talk this over peacefully? There's no need for bloodshed here."

Wright let out an indignant gasp. "My endgame? My endgame? Whatever gave you the idea of an endgame here, Ethan?"

"So you're doing this because you can, Mr. Wright," came another voice.

"Novick," Wright smiled. "I was wondering where you were hiding after taking down Charles Logan. I heard he's a vegetable now, by the way. Would you have anything to do with that, hmm?"

Mike Novick moved into frame. He appeared significantly more worrisome than usual, and was now almost completely bald. The ring of white hair he previously wore was reduced to little more than wisps here and there. Despite his aging figure, he still commanded an authority that even Wright respected- at least, he did when he was still a government agent.

"Marcus, you and I both know full well what Pitch Black wants, and I know that you've been its leader for some time now. Quite a lofty goal you've got there, old friend."

"Leave, Mike."

"Excuse me," Mike asked.

"Leave, or Tim Woods is a stain on the carpet. This is between me and Ethan Kanin."

"You'd better do what he says," Ethan gently advised, and Mike left the room.

"Sit down, Mr. President!"

Ethan sat.

Marcus noted the President's complacency, and scolded him for such behavior.

"You have my daughter and my Chief of Staff," Ethan shot back. "You've made no demands, and the Marcus Wright I knew was above this! He saved civilians in the line of fire, not executed them. Let Tim go."

"Mr. President, it's all right. I am prepared to die before this man blackmails his way into the White House," Tim stated matter-of-factly.

"Shut up," Wright yelled. He shoved the cringing man away, and looked directly into the eyes of the leader of the free world. "Talk to me, Ethan. One on one."

He put the gun down and resumed his resolute posture.

"All right, then. I'll talk if you're willing to hear me out," Ethan told the terrorist.

"I've always been one for debates. Lay down the law."

"Ethan, I understand that you're upset. The matters in Valencia eleven years ago, the assassination of Audrey Raines, who I understand you were very close to, and the corruption of past administrations… but I don't see how any of that would culminate in this wanton act of terrorism. As far as I am aware, this came completely out of left field, Marcus."

"Who do you think was responsible for making Ramon and Hector Salazar aware of the presence of Michael Amador in Mexico during the Saunders case?"

"If I recall correctly, you are. That passing of information resulted in the torture of a federal agent and the deaths of both Salazar brothers."

"As well as the resulting chain of events that ultimately lead to David Palmer's abdication of office."

The light of realization dawned on the President's features.

"You've been working with Pitch Black since then?"

"Since Operation Nightfall."

"What do you hope to accomplish today? I've been in office for over two years now," Ethan gulped.

"I'm just a small part of the puzzle, Mr. President. Pitch Black is a vast network. I just run the American branch. If you agree to, on my terms, sign your resignation, I will allow these hostages to live and return safely to their families. If you do not, everyone here will die. Live. On-air. I have men in every news outlet ready to act on my command."

"Marcus, you know I can't-" was the last that the terrorist leader heard. A gunshot rang out and the screen went blank. Wright whirled around to find a bullet hole in the camera and one of his own hostages pointing a gun at him.

"Trent!"

Murkowski moved to intercept the man, but this new hero shot him in the face without blinking.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Wright mumbled.

Then the man spoke.

"Marcus Wright. I know you just as well as the President does. We left the Service together. My name is John Harrison. You and I were friends. Come on, man, let them go. We'll get you some help, and-"

"Help," Wright yelled. "The only help I will accept is the demise of this grossly ineffective system of government! Thousands of Americans are dead because of the Iraq War, and thousands more because of the stubbornness of countless politicians who have this insane Messiah complex fixated on the rest of this shithole world we live in. How many wars that don't concern us have both parties gotten us involved in over the centuries? How many lives lost in the vain effort to help Europe kill a few madmen? How many terrorist attacks on American soil since 2002? The Drazens, Second Wave, the Cordilla Virus, Turkish Crimson Jihad… hell, even Charles Logan, a former _President of the United States_, was a terrorist at one point! Abu Fayed and Jonas Hodges were just icing on the cake! I won't stand for it anymore! My family is dead because of the inaction of the government, and their inane arrogance when it comes to locating foreign terrorists inside our home!"

"You want revenge, is that it," Harrison questioned.

"Justice for the American people, John," Wright practically shrieked, almost in tears.

"And, yet, you are holding American citizens hostage to get justice for American citizens. That is massively hypocritical, unless there's something I'm not seeing," Harrison reasoned.

"These are _not_ American citizens! Every single person in here was affiliated with our horrendously irresponsible and hypocritical government for years! I'm doing them a favor now by putting them out of their misery! So don't talk to me about hypocrisy."

"Marcus, you can't kill almost three dozen people just to prove a point. That's not the man I grew up with."

"Mr. Harrison," Tim slowly extended a hand, "put the gun down."

"Get back, Woods. I'm handling this."

"Put the gun down, for god sakes," Charlie cried.

Harrison locked eyes with Charlie for the briefest of seconds, but this was enough for Woods to grab the gun and kick it away from the former agents. Wright also used this opportunity to shove Harrison to the ground, making ungodly sounds at the other man. An intimidation tactic, perhaps?

"Who the hell are you," Tim whispered.

"A friend of Jack Bauer," Harrison whispered back.

Tim fiddled with something under his shirt at the mention of Jack's name. Harrison took note of it and smiled conspiratorially.

_1:06:34… 1:06:35… 1:06:36… 1:06:37…_

Jack drummed his fingers on his desk, deep in thought. Staring at a picture of himself and Audrey taken shortly after the pair had become exclusive, Jack's mind drifted back in time.

_**It was an early morning in Moscow. Jack was dressed in a manner befitting the court. His lawyer, Pavel Barishnikov, had been held up in traffic and thus was late for closing arguments. His opposition, Yuri Suvarov, sat smugly in the defendant's chair. The entire nation knew that Bauer was guilty of Suvarov's attempted assassination half a decade prior, but the last year had been spent trying to elicit a confession that avoided a trial. You can imagine how well that went. The government had been through massive upheaval as of late, what with Suvarov's crimes being recently made public. The everyman, however, refused to believe Suvarov's complicity and had demanded a trial. The new president was weak, and acquiesced. A kangaroo court was what this was, and Jack knew it. Not that it mattered anyway. The judge read him his sentence and he was carted out of the room. Life imprisonment. He was somewhat surprised they didn't break even more of the law and sentenced him to execution, which had been illegal except via shooting for decades. Poisoning was out of the question. Jack took solace in the fact that Suvarov was also going away for life and grimly accepted his fate. But he would never forget Suvarov's smug cries of victory over Jack as the disgraced politician was also led away.**_

A tapping on the door halted Jack's trip down memory lane. He motioned for the individual to enter. Kate laid a file on his desk and looked ashen.

"What is it," Jack mumbled.

"It's Yuri Suvarov. He's dead."

"What?"

"He made a noose out of his bed sheets and hung himself in his cell. Our only lead to the murder of Stephen Kanin is gone, Jack."

"Russian prisons are hellholes, Kate," Jack said coldly. "Good riddance to the bastard."

Kate slapped him.

"How dare you? The man who authorized the assassination of my_ best _friend, Omar Hassan, _and_ the love of your daughter's life killed himself and we have no way of bringing him to justice for his crimes against this country's government. Three people are dead because of Yuri Suvarov! To say nothing of the fact that five more hostages are dead in the Cairo lobby! How dare you be so flippant?"

"That'll be all, Agent Morgan."

"Jack-"

"That will be all."

Kate glared at him, as if daring him to yell at her.

"Go to hell," she hissed, and stormed out.

Jack went back to staring at the picture on his desk.

Olivia sang along- very badly- to some pop song by an artist Aaron never heard of on the radio. The retired agent quickly switched the radio off, earning an exasperated look from his passenger.

"Let's not add being tone deaf to your list of charges," Aaron deadpanned.

"Jonas Hodges sanctioned my brother's murder to cover up a terrorist agenda. Although I tried to back out of the assassination, and I felt bad about it for most of the last seven years, I have ultimately concluded that his death was justified."

"Whatever gets you through the night."

"You know, Aaron, if you're going to be silently judging me this whole trip, I might as well get out of the car now."

Without warning, Olivia grabbed the steering wheel and began to jerk it wildly.

"Damn it, Olivia, what the hell are you doing," Aaron cried. After a heated jostling between them, he was able to push Olivia away and pull off to the side of the road, horns honking and drivers road raging all around them. Olivia nodded to Aaron, opened the door, and exited of the vehicle. Aaron followed suit, blocking her as soon as he could. His eyes bore into her own, and she got back inside, strapping in her seat belt. Aaron hopped in as well, smirking triumphantly, and continued driving.

"You're still guilty of murder, Olivia."

"What about that other convict you mentioned springing? Where is that hitherto unnamed individual? Aaron, are you listening to me," Olivia pressed.

Aaron blasted the radio to drown out her voice.

Huan parked in front of the Cairo.

_1:13:13… 1:13:14… 1:13:15… 1:13:16…_

Slamming the driver door behind him, Huan marched up to the police sergeant. He lightly tapped him on the shoulder, and he pivoted to face him.

"Agent Cheng, CTU. Where are we?"

"Several shots have been fired inside the lobby," the sergeant reported.

"Damn it," Huan smacked his forehead. "Any casualties?"

"Five, so far."

"Is Wright among them?"  
"No, sir."

"Demands?"  
"None. I have been apprised that the feed to the White House was disconnected by one very heroic hostage."

"And where is this person?"  
"Still inside. He's been identified as John Harrison, former Secret Service like Wright."

"Any progress on Wright's plan, sergeant?"  
"Negative."

"Do we know anything," the irritated agent said, far more harshly than he intended.

The sergeant remained silent, and this was a sufficient answer for Huan.

Then came a hail of gunfire from the upper windows. Police officers began dropping like flies, and Huan dove for cover.

_1:15:10… 1:15:11… 1:15:12… 1:15:13…_

_1:18:03… 1:18:04… 1:18:05… 1:18:06…_

_**Jack sat in a fetal position at the edge of his cell, solemn and introspective. But he wasn't alone, at least not physically. When he looked up for the first time in hours, he saw Audrey. Her name passed his lips like the last breath of a dying man.**_

"_**Audrey."**_

_**She smiled at him. "Hey, Jack. How are you? Faring better than me, I suppose."**_

_**She took in the fact that he was practically naked. Nothing she hadn't seen before, but what disturbed her were the multitude of fresh wounds on his chest and face. Bruises and lacerations covering the old scars from his days in China. Bits of flesh torn off. Audrey could barely look at the broken shell of the man she loved. If she were actually there, that is. If a man hired by that bastard Cheng Zhi hadn't shot her. If she were alive, she would probably have to send her father to a nursing home at some point, and she couldn't bear that either. So she endured looking at Jack because she loved him with all her heart, although the sight of him broke it many times over. Jack seemed to notice her resignation.**_

"_**It's okay, Audrey," he whispered.**_

"_**I wish it were me," Audrey's voice cracked on "were me."**_

"_**Don't you say that," Jack commanded.**_

"_**I would gladly be catatonic again if it meant at least having you in one piece, with me! You know something, Jack? I would've said 'yes.'"**_

"_**What," Jack strained.**_

"_**If you had proposed, I would've said 'yes.' I found a ring that you'd bought sometime before Marwan had my father and I kidnapped. I found it the day before you resurfaced to bring Palmer's assassins to justice. You'd hidden it in my jewelry box, so deep I couldn't see it at first. Then I dug a little, because I noticed the box, and there it was. And now… here it is," she chuckled at the end.**_

_**His lost love held up her (its?) hand, showing off a beautiful diamond ring. Jack's eyes brimmed with tears.**_

"_**Audrey Louise Boudreau…" he started.**_

_**She raised a hand to his lips, silencing him.**_

"_**Not Boudreau. Not that traitor to our country. Mark was there. He was there, and I was weak. There is only ever one man I have ever truly let in, Jack. You. My name is Audrey Heller Bauer, and I am your wife."**_

"_**If only it were under better circumstances," Jack mused.**_

"_**In my heart, I have always been yours, Jack. Always and forever."**_

_**She kissed him, slowly. Passionately. And he reciprocated. No one was there to judge him for kissing a projection of his mind, and he didn't care that she wasn't real. She still lived in his heart, and that was enough for Jack.**_

Presently, Jack stared at the picture of the duo on his desk and wept.

The phone rang.

"Hello," Jack choked.

"Jack, it's Aaron Pierce. I have Olivia Taylor with me, albeit rather unwillingly. There's a motel up ahead. I'll stop there for a short time, and continue on."

"Thank you, Aaron," Jack sighed. "For everything. You were a part of the team that got me out of Russia."

"It was the least I could do, Jack," Aaron assented. "I'll see you in a bit."

Jack placed the phone back onto the receiver. Opening a drawer, he removed a ring box. Inside it was the ring that he had seen on "Audrey's" finger. He turned it over several times, still weeping.

Marcus Wright had to relieve himself. Although Tim had joked about someone actually using the restroom "at a time like this," it have Charlie the chance to confer with him. Fellow hostage Cheryl had joined them.

"He's obviously mentally unstable. Maybe if we play our cards right, he'll let us go," Cheryl opined.

"No," Tim flatly put that theory to rest. "Like he said, everyone in here either is or was working for the government, and he despises the American government for what he believes to be their shortcomings. He'd sooner kill us all than let even one of us walk out of here."

"If-"

That word was frozen on Cheryl's lips when a bullet imbedded itself in the back of her skull. The woman's corpse fell face-first onto the floor, a pool of blood rapidly forming around her. Wright sneered at Charlie and Tim before walking away, zipping his fly.

Kate hurried into Jack's office to see him drying his eyes.

"Jack?"  
"Yeah? I'm fine," he lied.

"Audrey," she prodded sympathetically.

"How'd you know?"  
"Tears have been keeping me up lately. Audrey died two years ago last night and Adam hung himself because of me tonight. You can imagine how today's crisis is exacerbating all that."

"Yeah… Kate?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I should've been more vigilant with her. You trusted me with the woman you loved, and I let her die. I resigned from the CIA and went into seclusion for three months. No one saw me, no one heard my voice. Erik thought I killed myself. Then I heard that Navarro had been given the needle, and I pulled myself out of that rut. I went to visit Mark Boudreau in prison and reamed the son of a bitch out. It felt really good. A few days later, _he_ got the needle, too. But all that doesn't fix my mistake."

"Kate… it's all too clear that being in my presence is a constant reminder of your pain, so why did you help extract me? You could've let me rot in Moscow."

"Because it is what Audrey would've wanted. I took a job here because I need to do some actual good in this world. Stopping people like Marcus Wright is the perfect example of that job. You know, I've thought about ending it. All of it. Adam is gone, Audrey is gone, and we can't bring them back, Jack. So why not join them, you know," Kate confessed.

Jack offered a sympathetic smile. "I've had the same thoughts, but you know how I stop myself every time I think of picking up a razor, or overdosing on heroin, or drinking until I'm drowning in alcohol?"

"No," Kate replied, tears threatening to brim over.

"I remember the good times. With Teri, my wife. Kim. Audrey. Chloe." His voice broke on Chloe's name. "Sometimes my daughter, and the knowledge of what a beautiful person she's become inside and out, and what a wonderful mother she is… sometimes that's enough to keep me going."

"I'm happy for you that you have that, Jack. But what do I have? I met Audrey an astounding _ten minutes_ before she was murdered. My husband killed himself because I lost my faith in him, as you know, and although we did love each other deeply, we made war in our house a lot more often than we made love. I was told at twenty-six that I was infertile. I hadn't ever put much thought into being a mom anyway, but the news still hurt. So, tell me: what do I have to fall back on?"

"Your strength. Kate Morgan, the mere existence of the fact that all the crap in your life hasn't made you kill yourself makes you a hell of a lot stronger than so many other people in this world. You are the strongest woman I have ever met, and I admire you so much for that."

Kate thought about his answer for a good minute, and finally responded:

"I'm going to the Cairo."

And then she was gone.

Damien Houser was a respectable enough gentleman. Calm, polite, never lifted a finger against a friend or family member. An established DEA agent. He was also the man who's name showed up on Marcus Wright's cell phone when he answered an incoming call.

"Hello," the ringleader chirped.

"Your welcome for those snipers," Houser's voice remarked. "Is Charlotte Kanin dead yet?"

"We could always use her as a bargaining chip to get her father to step down," Wright reasoned.

"No," Houser growled. "She dies now."

He hung up. Wright was shocked by the abruptness of his ending the call.

"Okay, then," he clicked his tongue.

Everyone had heard Houser's edict loud and clear.

Wright shoved his way through dissenting hostages who grabbed at him in a fruitless attempt to keep him away from Charlie, and he non-fatally shot several on his way to her.

"Please, no," Charlie screamed.

The looks Wright gave her was almost one of pity, but he still put Kanin on FaceTime and showed him his terrified child.

"God, Marcus! You can't," he protested.

"I have to, Ethan, it's my job. I am a so-called terrorist after all," Wright pointed out.

He took the safety off his gun and wrapped his finger around the trigger. Charlie, body wracked by fearful sobs and shivers, closed her eyes as Wright pressed the weapon against her forehead.

"Marcus! Marcus, please!"

"I got mad and killed five of my bargaining chips at once, Ethan. They didn't count toward my promise."

He leaned in, never taking the gun off of poor Charlie.

The madman's finger wrapped tighter around the trigger…

Charlie stopped shaking, sitting on her knees, still as an oak tree.

"Charlie, baby," Ethan sobbed. "Daddy's here."

"It's okay, dad. I'm okay with this. If it means you staying in office, I am at peace. I can die like this," she rationalized.

Wright stared at her with wicked eyes.

And…

CLICK!

Nothing. No bullet. No smoke. Wright holstered his weapon. Ethan sighed in relief.

"In the spirit of good faith that you will eventually step down of your own accord," Wright spoke at the image on his phone, "I will let her live another thirty minutes. After that, I promise that you will find her with a bullet in her brain."

He ended the session and pocketed his phone, walking away.

Charlie dissolved into shocked sobs on the floor.

_1:24:23… 1:24:24… 1:24:25… 1:24:26…_

_1:27:31… 1:27:32… 1:27:33… 1:27:34…_

Sarah Gavin had been called into Jack's office. He sat with his signature stony look of determination. The old Jack Bauer again. He was so stern that Sarah was almost frightened.

"Yes, sir," she inquired after a long silence.

"Sit down, Sarah," her boss commanded. She did.

"What is it, Mr. Bauer?"

"I'm dying, Sarah."

The analyst was dumbfounded. Not a bomb to be dropped at a time like this, that was for sure. Jack perceived this idea in her mind.

"I know it's not an ideal time, but I needed to tell someone before it was too late."

"Care to explain, sir? I know that's not my place, but-"

"No that is entirely your place, Sarah. I'm not some bureaucrat who looks down on his employees. I'm telling you because I trust you. Chloe O'Brian is on forced retirement, and I don't think she is up to hearing what I am about to say. Have you ever heard of the prion variant?"

"Yes," Sarah said meekly. "The disease that Jonas Hodges and Alan Wilson tried to use to coerce the government into giving them military contracts, a disease which you were infected with on the day they planned to carry out that plan. I heard your daughter Kim gave you stem cells and you were cured of the pathogen, sir. Am I mistaken with that information?"

"No, Sarah, you're not. Kim did give me some of her stem cells, but the procedure was experimental. It was not entirely successful, but that fact did not become apparent right away. It resurfaced shortly after my attempted assassination of Yuri Suvarov. I'd been taking once-a-day injections of artificial stem cells since, but I always knew that the prion would catch up with my body eventually. Today, it seems, is that day."

Sarah reached out and held Jack's hand.

"Is there anything I can do, sir? Would you like to go home and rest? Be with your daughter?"

"No, there's nothing you can do, Sarah. I appreciate the sentiment. Kim was aware that the prion might eventually return, but she doesn't know that it has."

"You can't withhold information from her like that, sir, all due respect."

"It would be better than her worrying herself to death on my account."

"But anything would be better than her coming to your apartment one day to find her father dead!"

Immediately, Sarah was surprised by the level and tone of her outburst. That was not how professionals behaved, in the workplace or otherwise. Her voice had betrayed her own past experience. Her father was dying of cancer, and had refused chemotherapy. He said he wanted to live out the rest of his natural days with his wife and daughter, and not artificially prolong the inevitable. Howard Gavin was his name. A decorated Navy SEAL. But she couldn't think of him now.

"I'm sorry, sir, I-"

"It's okay, Audrey," Jack said blearily.

"Audrey? Sir, I'm Sarah Gavin."

Not according to Jack's eyes. He saw Audrey, clothed in a white wedding dress, her beautiful eyes staring back at him.

"Sir," she asked. "Mr. Bauer?"

Jack shook his head and Sarah was there again. As it turned out, no one had ever lived with the prion infection this long before, and the disease had begun to make him hallucinate. Vivid hallucinations, and not just of Audrey. But he couldn't tell Sarah- or anyone- that.

"Sorry, Sarah. No, there's not. But you can perhaps go to my daughter Kim's house. I'll write her address down for you. I would prefer someone I trust being there with her tonight."

He scribbled down her address and handed it to Sarah, who took the piece of paper and hurried out the door. Jack smiled. She may be scatterbrained at times, but Sarah Gavin was dependable and honest. A good person in a sea of duplicitous rats.

John Harrison had slipped away in the confusion of Wright bluffing Kanin about Charlie. He sat on the hood of a bullet-hole-riddled police car, corpses all around him. Huan stood before him.

"And you say you are a friend of Jack Bauer's, Mr. Harrison," Huan asked, skeptical.

"Yes," Harrison affirmed.

"How did you manage to escape?"  
Harrison recounted the event.

"And why are you still here?"  
"I needed to tell someone that Charlie Kanin is going to be executed in front of her father in… what time is it?"  
"1:32," Huan informed him.

"In less than half an hour," Harrison finished. "Also, someone you know is in there, so I suggest you get inside ASAP."

"Who," Huan grilled him.

"Your wife."

"You told me all the hostages are current or former government employees. My wife doesn't work for the government, nor has she ever!"

"You might want to rethink how well you know your dear little Brooke, mate," his British accent condescended him.

Back inside, Brooke was consoling a despondent Charlie. Tim had also snuck over and shielded the women from Wright's men's stares. The surviving terrorists never took their eyes from the First Daughter.

"How are we getting out of here," Brooke whispered.

Tim opened up his shirt to reveal a wire.

"Jack Bauer," he answered. "He has a team and someone on the inside. We will be all right."

"Well, I don't know Jack Bauer, Mr. Woods, so I sure as hell won't be putting my faith in a man I don't know. My husband works for CTU. I know he can come find us if anything goes south."

"_When _everything goes south," Charlie pessimistically sobbed.

"As noted before, Wright is unstable, both psychologically and emotionally. Perhaps I can appeal to his good side," Tim offered.

"What good side? That man doesn't have a good side," the women both argued at once.

"I gotta at least try," Tim resolved.

Over by the guarded entrance, Wright had Ethan on the horn.

"Damn it, Marcus, you can stop this just as easily as you started it," the President scolded.

"Maybe I can, maybe I can't."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Marcus marched over to the trio and pried Charlie away from Brooke and Tim by the woman's hair.

"No, no," Charlie yelped.

Wright put the President on speaker phone.

"There, now you can hear her die, like I heard my family die when the nuclear bomb went off in Valencia," Wright shouted into his phone. He trained the gun right between Charlie's eyes.

"We still have twenty minutes, Marcus," Ethan pleaded.

"I know. Doesn't mean I can't have some fun while I wait."

He lowered the gun and shot Charlie in the shoulder.

_1:39:41… 1:39:42… 1:39:43… 1:39:44…_

Mandy's car pulled up to an apartment building. She stepped onto the sidewalk and rang the doorbell. Greeting her was a smiling Damien Houser. They embraced. Behind him was a green-eyed redhead, mid-20s, who Mandy noticed was missing part of a finger. The girl spoke with a British accent.

"Hello. I'm Simone."

Mandy looked the girl over like a cat analyzing its excrement and proceeded to flop down on the couch as Houser closed the door behind them.

Kate had arrived at the hotel and checked out Harrison.

"How do you know, Jack? He's never mentioned you."

"Operation Nightfall, I was a covert sniper for the Drazen takeout hired by the British government."

"Nightfall was twenty-two years ago, Mr. Harrison," Huan laid into him.

"Who was Stephen Saunders?"

Harrison was at a loss. Kate repeated herself. Still nothing.

"Who was Stephen Saunders," Kate yelled in his face.

A second time, she was met with the same silence. Huan then had the brilliant idea of shoving a gun in the British man's face.

"How do you know Jack Bauer? Talk!"

Harrison calmly angled the agent's arm away from his face.

"I just do."

Kate turned around and dialed Jack.

"Yeah," came his gravelly tone.

"Do you know a man by the name of John Harrison," Kate inquired.

"No," was his simple response.

"Kate," Huan tapped her shoulder.

Kate turned around and, inexplicably, Harrison was already running down the street, far out of firing range if they trued to shoot him.

"Damn it," Kate moaned. "Have him followed."

Huan obliged and called someone.

Houser was on the floor, his nose bloodied. Mandy loomed over him, a gun in her lithe hand.

"I have questions, Houser, and you have answers," the assassin sneered.

"Don't be so sure of that," Houser groaned.

A bullet in the arm for that incorrect answer. Houser screamed.

"Let's start with Jack Bauer's son-in-law. Ethan Kanin's boy. Why him? Why not his daughter Charlotte? Why leave her in the hands of an emotionally unstable jackass like Marcus Wright? Why not let me kill her? Don't think I'm special enough or something?"

"It did feel a bit sensational," the corrupt DEA agent admitted.

Mandy trained her gun on his aged face this time.

"Okay, let's move on. What does Marcus Wright want with a dying man?"

"If this is about money-"

Mandy shot him in the other arm.

"A man like Wright isn't smart enough to plan this by himself. He's got to be working for someone, and I want to know who, Damien."

"Wait," came Simone's childish shrill.

She placed herself between the wounded Houser and Mandy's weapon.

"I will not hesitate to pull this trigger even with you in the way."

"I can take you to Wright's boss."

This made Mandy hesitate. She lowered her gun.

"Do it now."

Simone nodded respectfully and led the assassin to her car.

Aaron pulled up to the motel he mentioned to Jack.

_1:52:03… 1:52:04… 1:52:05… 1:52:06…_

Inside, Olivia began stripping. Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"What," the younger woman asked, "nothing you haven't seen before."

"You stopped pestering me about the other convict."

"I figured you'd tell me on your own accord."

Aaron was about to give a witty comeback when his phone rang. Jack. Olivia had moved into the bathroom and water was running.

"Yes, Jack," Aaron greeted.

"Are you at the motel?"

"Yes," Aaron told him.

"Good. There are two plane tickets under your pillow. Put them in your wallet."

Aaron overturned the pillows on the bed and found the tickets.

"Jack, these are for a four a.m. flight. Olivia is exhausted. She won't be much help when she's sleep-deprived."

"She will, trust me. When you two arrive at CTU, she will be taken to an interrogation room. Aaron, I had an inside man tell Wright to have you grab Olivia because she has valuable information on the man who's carrying out an attack against the Kanin administration today. The hostage situation with Marcus Wright is a diversion. Wright is not the mastermind behind this plot."

"Then who is," Aaron puzzled.

"That is what Olivia is going to tell us, Aaron. Just get her here."

Before Jack could hang up, Aaron spoke Jack's name.

"Yes, Aaron?"

"I know you're sick. I know the specifics. I know that you probably will die within the next twenty-two hours. What if this operation isn't complete by then?"

"Then I trust its completion to you and Kate Morgan. I would call on Chloe, but after all that business with her… helping me get out of Moscow… she's in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, Aaron. I can't do that to her again."

The line went dead.

Aaron mentally lamented his friend and what had happened to Miss O'Brian, but at least the woman was safe where no one would think to look for her.

Harrison wore scrubs. Appropriate, given that he was a nurse and he was in a hospital. A coma ward, to be exact. There was one particular patient he had come to check on. He looked into the glass of the door to room 537 at none other than…

Charles Logan.

The former president had been in a persistent vegetative state since his suicide attempt over half a decade previously, but had written in his will to be on life support for as long as possible. Miraculously, brain function was sufficient enough to keep him alive even after all this time, but machines breathed for him.

"Bastard must have a will to exist that rivals God Himself," Harrison joked to himself. "You'll be waking up soon, old boy, don't you fret about that. A mutual friend wants very much to see you. He has a score to settle."

It was almost two, and Wright was getting antsy.

"Should or should I not," Wright mumbled to himself over and over on the subject of getting Ethan back on the line. While the man debated with himself, he got a call and was distracted. Tim moved close enough so his wire could pick it up.

"Yes, sir," Wright quipped.

"Can you hear," Tim's voice barely audible.

"Yes," Jack said.

"Why the hell is Charlie Kanin still breathing," the voice on the other line raged. "The deal was for her to be dead by now. Stop pissing around and kill the bitch!"

The man on the line was very clearly heard by all the hostages in close proximity, and they huddled around Charlie protectively.

"Wait…" Jack steadied. "I know that voice."

"Who is he talking to," Tim wondered.

"A man I never thought I'd ever hear from again. His sister and I go back."

"Who is he?"

"Richard Myers. Brother of the woman who killed my wife Teri."

Gunshots. Many gunshots.

In his office, Jack was worried.

"What's going on," he yelled. "Tim! Tim Woods!"

Back in the hotel, the hostages were huddled away from several corpses. Terrorists. All shot squarely in the head. Wright was on the floor, his phone thrown far away. He held his thigh in pain. Blood drenched his pant leg.

Above him stood another man Jack never thought he'd see again.

A man who had sacrificed his freedom to satisfy his desire for vengeance for his deceased wife.

Someone who, these days, reminded Jack of himself.

Tony Almeida.

_1:59:57… 1:59:58… 1:59:00… 2:00:00…_


End file.
